As Big as the Moon

Wanting to make my terminally ill mother happy on Valentine's weekend, I bring home a surprise.

This story is my entry in the Valentine's Day Story Contest 2024. It's a slow-burn romance so please read and rate as you feel it deserves.

© SouthernCrossfire - 2024. All rights reserved.

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Friday, February 12, 1999

It was getting late and I was still almost two hours from home. As cold as it was and with the clouds blocking my view of the stars, I wondered if we might actually have a snowy Valentine's Day. Personally, I cared little for snow but my parents always talked about hoping for a white Christmas, though they hadn't seen one at our former home in Knoxville since about the time they married, a couple of years before I was born. I sighed, missing the good times there during my youth.

The highway signs showed that gas and food were available at the next exit so I decided to pull off and take one last break before continuing up I-65 on my way to the unincorporated hamlet of Farmington, Tennessee.

Though it may sound like it's made up, Farmington's actually a real place as I discovered when my dad took a job nearby while I was in college, uprooting our family from our home and friends in Knoxville, a third of the state away. With farms (who'd have thought!), some homes, three or four churches, and a few stores, Farmington has been there since the 1830s but its only claim to fame, as dubious as it is, was a brief and thoroughly indecisive battle during the Civil War. The cemetery lists a few of the fallen.

No, Farmington wasn't my hometown and never would be. Since I'd graduated from U.T. and had gotten a job and an apartment down in Dothan, Alabama, the previous June, I'd spent even less time there, but my parents and younger siblings still lived there and I considered wherever they were as home.

That was especially true at our Christmas celebration about six weeks earlier, but it was a rough time, which was why I was making my way home again so soon afterward. My mother had informed us then that she had cancer and that the doctors said she probably didn't have much time left. Unless there was a miracle, she wouldn't live to see her birthday in the summer, much less the next Christmas.

Until a couple of nights ago, I'd been excited about the trip because of what had happened at Christmas and soon thereafter. Mom had given me the "you need to settle down and find a good girl" spiel in front of the whole family over Christmas dinner, with my younger sisters and little brother snickering through it all. Dad whispered to me later to ignore it, that it was the drugs she was on, but I knew it was how she really felt.

I'd never been all that lucky with girls but I wasn't a complete loser either, having dates from time to time and even having sex on occasion. There'd even been a couple of girlfriends in college but neither for all that long and nothing in recent times that gave me hope for any type of change in the near future. What made it worse was the disappointment in my mother's eyes that she would never see a grandchild; that saddened me.

That all changed a few days after I got back to Dothan when I met Janella Wiggens. We hit it off well, had a nice first date, and then she pulled me into her apartment when I took her home for a night of hot and steamy sex.

Janella was nice, she was beautiful, and, most surprising of all, she was interested in me. She was from California and she surfed, which was apropos for she had that California surfer-girl look that the Beach Boys sang about. However, she joked that she'd taken a job after college in the wrong L.A., Lower Alabama instead of Los Angeles. We'd been dating for over a month and had, to my pleasure, already had sex a number of additional times since that first incredible night together.

I found myself comfortable with her and she had no family in the area so I invited her to come home with me for Valentine's Day to meet my mom, dad, and younger siblings, though I hadn't mentioned her to them up to that point. Janella was all for it and I figured it might also give my mom more reason to fight her cancer for the grandchildren she might someday have, if she actually thought there was a chance there might eventually be one at least relatively soon without having to wait years for my sisters or our little brother to come through for her.

Janella and I had each arranged with our employers for it to be a four-day weekend so we were looking forward to spending some quality time together as well as the time we spent with my mom, in particular, and the rest of my family.

"Mom, would you mind if I bring a friend home with me next weekend?" I'd asked during our weekly call.

"Sure, Keith, you know your friends are always--wait, a friend, or a female friend?" Her level of excitement had gone way up when she registered the possibility.

"Yeah, I met a young lady recently. We've gotten sort of close, so I'd like to bring her up and introduce you to each other."

Mom was all for it and Dad agreed, saying, "What time do you think y'all will be here?"

My dad, always the practical one.

Unfortunately, things had fallen apart a few nights before the trip when Janella's dad called and said he'd be in Pensacola on business on Thursday and Friday and invited her down for the weekend before he returned home to California. Janella told me she wasn't going to come with me after all and that she was going to talk to her dad about looking for a new job in "the real L.A." She added, "I know that changing jobs so soon isn't good but I think most people will understand about the location issue."

"Janella, what about us? Are you just going to give up on whatever we might have?"

"Keith, we haven't been dating all that long and don't know each other that well so what we have is hormones and some good times fucking, but we'll both find someone else. After all, it's not like we'd be throwing away a big investment."

To be honest, I understood her desire to meet her dad, but the jab about the job and the area was a bit much, especially since it meant that she didn't care enough about me to want to stay. It was her last words, though, that really stung.

"No, I guess we're not nearly as close as I thought if you can talk of throwing it away so easily. Well, you can have your 'real L.A.,' your new job that you don't even have yet, and your good riddance from me," I said bitterly before getting up and walking out of her apartment for the last time. If she'd tried to stop me, even just calling out my name, I'd have turned around and gone back to her, but she didn't and I didn't either.

In hindsight, our actions and our argument sounded pretty immature on both our parts and it was only as I drove home that I realized how fragile our relationship had been, how little I'd known about her, and how much our breakup would hurt my mom, who'd been so excited about meeting my new girlfriend.

Therefore, I was on my way home, as alone as before, disappointment on wheels for my mother. And, I realized, for me.

Pulling off the interstate, I picked a truck stop that would have gas, a clean restroom, and food. The place didn't look very busy but there weren't all that many pumps, so I filled it up and then hopped in to pull it up to a space in front of the building. I'd developed a chill while pumping the gas so I zipped up my coat and put on my gloves before locking my car and heading inside.

As I made my way toward the entry, I was surprised to see a girl sitting against the front of the building, her knees pulled up and arms circled around them, hands tucked in against the cold. I was about to pass her when I noticed the shiver and her jerking attempt to stop if. She had no gloves, I realized, and her coat looked light for the weather. She was probably waiting for a ride and ignored me as I passed by, so I said nothing and went inside.

Refreshed and with a drink and a bag of trail mix in my hand, I came back out a few minutes later to see that she was still there but this time she was openly shivering and appeared to be crying.

"Excuse me, miss? Are you okay?"

Haltingly, she looked up at me and I could see streaks of tears mixed with makeup under both eyes.

"You need help," I stated. "Let's get you inside and get a cup of coffee or some hot chocolate to warm you up while you wait for your ride."

She shook her head. "I don't have any money; my boyfriend took it and left me here so no one is coming for me."

"Your boyfriend? He's not coming back for you?"

"No. I wouldn't...no, he won't be back."

"Come on inside. I'll buy you a hot drink and then we'll call someone to come take you home."

I extended a hand but she hesitated. "Why are you trying to help me, mister?" she asked, the suspicion clear on her face. "I'm not putting out for you."

"Because it looks like you need it. As for the 'putting out' part, I didn't ask you to and wouldn't accept if you offered. So, do you need help or not? If not, just tell me to leave and I'll be glad to be on my way. It's already going to be close to midnight before I make it home."

She rested her chin on her knees as she struggled to control her shivering. "I'm sorry. After what happened earlier, I'm alone and I'm scared and I don't know what to do. But," she added, acting more contrite, "I do need help."

I extended my hand again. "Take my hand and we'll go inside so you won't be alone anymore."

The cashier frowned as we entered, her glare at the young lady telling me that she'd probably already run her out of the store. I frowned back at the older woman and led the girl to the drink dispensers where she chose a cup of hot chocolate. I told her to have a seat in a booth in the dining area and then I picked up a sandwich from the cooler and went up to the register for the second time of the evening.

"That girl's a loiterer," said the woman at the register when I handed over the money. "Watch her. She'll probably steal you blind if you're not careful."

"Thanks for the warning, but she said her boyfriend stole her money and left her here. Now I'm trying to help her get home."

"And you believe that?"

I looked at the woman and replied, "Yeah, until she gives me reason not to."

The cashier gave me my change and a shake of her head, either not believing the girl or not believing that I could be so gullible. "Just be careful," she added.

At the booth, I slid in on the opposite side from the girl and pushed the sandwich over to her. She said, "Thanks," and dug into it, obviously quite hungry.

"I'm Keith Bristow and I'm a chemical process engineer at a plant down in Dothan. What about you?"

She hesitated between bites before realizing that I'd bought the sandwich she was eating and was trying to be helpful and friendly. She sighed heavily and said, "I'm Jaimie Clarke and I'm from Bowling Green." She paused, studying me and my reaction for a moment before continuing, "But you're wondering how I got here, today, aren't you? My...situation...at home isn't very good, so my boyfriend convinced me to go to New Orleans with him for Mardi Gras. It's Tuesday and he has family there."

"We're a long way from New Orleans. What happened?"

Another sigh. "Ryan and I got into an argument right before dinner. We pulled off the interstate to get something to eat and he parked over to the side and told me that since he was paying for the gas and the meal, I needed to contribute my share. He wasn't talking about cash either."

"Hmm. Nice guy," I said with a shake of my head. "Have you guys been together long?"

She frowned at me. "Had, not have. And no, not too long, though he'd seemed like a really nice guy to that point. Ryan was polite and respectful and, well, I liked him. I even figured that we'd probably, ah, do it, for the first time on this trip and was looking forward to it, but once we got in the car, he started making comments, acting differently. This was the first time I'd been--I don't know? In a vulnerable situation with him? He realized it and tried to take advantage of me, but I told him he'd have to wait until we got to New Orleans, that I wasn't going down on him in a car at a truck stop with people all around.

"After I said no, Ryan got pissed and started demanding, and I, well, I lost my temper and he kicked me out of the car. He drove off a little way, stopped, and threw my purse out the window, minus all of my cash, of course. 'For the gas!' he shouted as he tore out of here with my suitcase still in the trunk of his car. He didn't even leave me a quarter for a payphone."

I felt for her but I also felt the quarter weighing heavily in my pocket. Out it came and across the table toward her it went. "You made a mistake going with him but you've suffered enough. Here, take this, call your parents, and let's get you home."

She looked at it but didn't reach for it, shaking her head instead. "I'm not from around here. I'm from Bowling Green. Like in Kentucky, two states away, not Alabama."

"Ah, that Bowling Green. I've only lived in Alabama since June so my Alabama geography isn't that good yet, though I've been studying it." It was some days later that I realized my confusion between the name of the little community of Hazel Green near Huntsville with her city much further north.

She laughed lightly at my admission. "Don't worry about it; I'm not sure where we are even, so I don't know a soul around here. Well, except you, so it would have to be a collect call anyway, if there was anyone to call. See, Mom went for a visit to my aunt's house and my step-demon is the only one home. I can't go there with him by myself. That's why I agreed to go to New Orleans with Ryan in the first pl--"

"Wait. Your step--dad?" I asked, confused.

She nodded. "Yeah. Him. Gary. Despite the way he acts, Gary doesn't really like me--except how I look, I guess, and I can't stand to be around him because of it." When she caught my questioning look, she clarified, "He's a lech, always watching me, but he's careful and Mom loves him and she believes him rather than me."

"You told her how he looks at you?"

"Yes, but she says that's innocent, that he's trying to be a good father since my real dad isn't. I haven't seen my dad since I was twelve and don't even know where he is. As for Gary, I don't think he'd do anything but he creeps me out enough that I don't want to ever give him a chance."

"Your mom might be right, it might be totally innocent, but then again, guys tend to admire pretty girls even if they're not coming on to them."

She looked at me skeptically. "I'm a mess. You can't seriously think I'm pretty."

"Oh, I don't know. I'd actually say quite possibly. Of course, with the mascara thing you have going on, I'm not 100% sure," I added with a grin.

She knew she wasn't at her best, and her hair looked windswept and unkept, but her eyes widened as she turned and looked at her reflection in the window next to our booth. The look of horror she gave me was priceless but then she saw the napkin in my hand.

"You've stopped crying now so take this and run to the bathroom and do what you need to do to clean up. Your hot chocolate and I will still be here when you get back--I promise--and we'll figure out something to get you out of this mess."

She gave a quick wipe to both cheeks before picking up her purse, thanking me, and heading to the restroom.

While she was in there, I thought about options.

Bowling Green, even if she wanted to go there, was probably three and a half or four hours away so that was out of the question. I was too tired to drive that far and my parents were expecting me.

I could take her to the local police station and they'd find her somewhere safe to stay until morning when she could get some help from a shelter or a church or something. One of those agencies that help people might even be able to help her get a bus ticket where she could get to Bowling Green and maybe stay with a friend until her mom got home.

Of course, if she didn't want to do that, I could give her a few bucks and leave her here. That didn't sit well with me since I suspected she'd find herself in such a bad situation that she'd either freeze to death or be taken to a hospital somewhere...if she didn't end up being taken advantage of by someone even worse than that Ryan creep. While she didn't know me well, she had the benefit that I knew I wouldn't take advantage of her.

Suddenly she was back, sitting down opposite me in the booth, with her hair brushed, the tear and mascara-stained cheeks cleaned, and a light touch of makeup reapplied. She was, I realized, a lot cuter than I'd expected. Curly, sandy blonde hair, no longer matted and stringy, fell about her face and shoulders, and her eyes, so dark earlier, now shown like green emeralds. On seeing my smile, she grinned at me, revealing white teeth and a pretty smile of her own. At about 5'-4 or 5 and around 115 pounds, she was gorgeous in my eyes. Then the worry started to cover her face again.

"Wow. You clean up nice and are really pretty," I said, trying to cheer her up. "I hate to say it but I'm not sure if I'd blame your stepdad if he appreciates your looks."

She brightened up again as I started speaking but looked pretty pissed at me by the time I'd jammed my foot all the way into my mouth.

"If that were all it was, Keith, I'd probably put up with it. See, I still live at home and commute to school--I'm a junior nursing student at WKU. I help out around the house and take care of the yard so Mom doesn't charge me rent. Gary looks at me, which is bad enough, but I think he's been in my underwear drawer, too. I noticed things looking, well, different, a couple of times so I've been looking at it every day. I think a pair of panties were missing one day recently, too, though they showed up in the wash a few days later, so I'm not sure about that."

Speaking with a young lady who'd turned out to be so beautiful about her panties made it hard for me to keep from grinning--and wondering--but I was trying to be polite so I fought the grin and the inadvertent and unexpected hardening downstairs and focused on Jaimie's problem and what we could do about it.

"You said your mom's out of town at your aunt's. Where's that?"

Some town in Illinois might as well have been the moon as far as I was concerned, so I followed up. "When will she be home? Or is there anywhere else you can stay, maybe with a friend in Bowling Green, until she gets back?"

"Mom won't be home until Monday afternoon, and I don't have a lot of friends; the few people I know well enough to ask go home for the weekend, so I don't have anywhere I can stay until at least Sunday night and probably Monday."

"No friends there at all? Maybe friends of your mom?"

"We haven't been in Bowling Green long, just since Mom married Gary. We were in Cincinnati before that--and close to a dozen other spots in the years before that--and I transferred to Western Kentucky back in the fall so my only friends there are classmates and I'm not all that close to any of them."

She noticed my questioning look and added, "Seriously. Mom and I moved around a lot after Dad left, so I don't have any close friends. Not anywhere, really."

Her look told me it was true--or she was as accomplished as a liar as the cashier had suggested. "Got it. So, other than if you stay in a hotel--"

"Which I don't have any money to pay for."

"--Bowling Green is out. So maybe there's a shelter around here?"

She gave a little shudder at the thought and I nodded, understanding her fear and wondering if such a thing even existed in the area. Silence reigned at our table for a bit as we each pondered the situation.